


Fragments

by SeaweedWrites



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Gen, John can't sleep, Post-Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Post-Reichenbach, The Reichenbach Fall Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 01:06:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9266894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaweedWrites/pseuds/SeaweedWrites
Summary: I've been away from writing fan fiction about 5 years now.So this this is my first foray back into writing.I really do love to hear what people think of my writing, so please leave a comment and/or constructive criticism.John hasn't been sleeping well. Fragments of memories keep coming into his thoughts..





	

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written any fan fiction in 5 years or more. But recently, a certain fandom has really sparked my desire to jump back in with both feet. 
> 
> This is just a little drabble to kinda stick my toes in the water, shake of the rust and dust of the writing part of my brain, and see what I could do in this new (to me) fandom.
> 
> Set a month after “The Reichenbach Fall”. 
> 
> I hope you like, and PLEASE feel free to comment, good or bad. I'd love to know if you guys think I should write more “Sherlock” stuff.

John still wasn't sleeping well. He'd close his eyes, and the fragments would come.

 

Fragments.

 

Fragments of memories popped into his head as he attempted to sleep. A few words from a totally innocuous conversation, or a flash of a location, or even a face.

 

THAT face. 

 

And it would always end the same. 

 

THE FALL. 

 

Blood on the sidewalk. 

 

No pulse.

 

The doctors pulling him away from his dead friend. 

 

From- 

 

NO.

 

He refused to say it. 

 

A month past, and it was all still too raw. 

 

He cursed himself, sitting up in bed, sweat dampening his brow. 

 

He couldn't go on like this. 

 

His eyes were sunken and dark. He barely ate, he barely slept, he would sleepwalk through his days at the practice.

 

The days that he could be arsed to get out of bed at all. 

 

Deep breaths.

 

Deep breaths.

 

When his heart rate finally decided to get back to some semblance of normality, he settled his head back on the pillow and pulled the comforter tight around him.

 

It was going to be a long night.


End file.
